Stigma
by Caelestria
Summary: For most of his life, Sting kept a secret hidden behind the closed doors of his mind. Slowly, after years of friendship, those doors had worn away to the point of decay. What will happen when the doors finally break down? Will the light of the White Dragon Slayer really be holy? Warning: yaoi and rape. Don't read if sensitive.


_Stigma (noun) – a mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance, quality, or person_

.

"Hey, where's Frosch?"

Of course the cat was his first priority…

"Out shopping with Lector," Sting answered nonchalantly.

He looked up from the magazine he was flipping through. He had completely ignored the spread on Mirajane modeling the hot new line of swimsuits from Heart Kreuz for a better sight. Rogue had just emerged from the bathroom.

Steam curled around his body, framing his figure with a white fog. He looked like a fallen angel who had lived among the shadows for years before finally finding a way back to heaven. A simple towel was wrapped around his hips, and his black hair looked longer than usual. The mark of the Sabertooth guild was proudly emblazoned on his left shoulder.

"Thanks for letting me use your bathroom. Did the plumber say when the water in my room will get fixed?"

"Next week."

"Okay, well I guess I'll have to leech off of you until then. See you."

He turned away from Sting. The water that moistened his hair dripped down the muscular contours on his back that were usually hidden by baggy clothing. Sting eyed the droplets of water hungrily as they trailed lower and lower.

A barely audible growl escaped Sting before he jumped on his friend. Rogue was shocked by the strong arms that suddenly coiled around his body. Sting's warmth contrasted with how the air had cooled his wet skin, which was strangely comforting. However, the gray fur lining on Sting's vest dampened when pressed against Rogue's back, and it gained an uncomfortable texture.

"Sting? What do you think you're doing?" Concern raised the pitch of Rogue's otherwise impassive voice.

"How do you expect me to restrain myself when you come out looking like that?" Sting whispered into Rogue's ear.

Sting ran his teeth along Rogue's neck. Rogue tensed at the tingling sensation.

"W-what do you mean? I've taken a shower at your place before. Hell, I've taken a bath _with_ you before."

"Yeah, but we were kids then so that doesn't really count. You have no idea how absolutely ravishing you look right now, do you?"

"'Ravishing'?" _What the hell did he mean by that?_

Sting replaced his teeth with his lips to soften the onrush, but that only made Rogue struggle more at the sudden romanticism. Why was he doing this so suddenly?

"Sting! What are you doing? I thought we were just friends! Friends don't do this with each other! Stop it!"

Sting sighed into the dark-haired mage's ear. "I didn't want to do this, but you really give me no choice."

"No choice?"

Ignoring Rogue's confusion, Sting placed a hand on his friend's bare abdomen. The light of Sting's holy magic silenced the question on Rogue's lips. A curling white stigma appeared on his pale skin.

Sting carried him to the bed in his room. On the way he explained, "You can still breathe and blink, and your body should function as it normally would. I've also worked on a muscle relaxant so you should be fairly comfortable. So don't worry about dying or something. Unfortunately, you can still feel everything as you normally would… I'm sorry if it hurts."

_Hurts?_

Even after being set down, Rogue glared at him, but that was only the emotion he set as his façade. Inside, though not exactly scared, he was deeply confused. He had known Sting most of his life. Sting had always been kind and loyal, a little bratty occasionally, but he hadn't known any better. Both of their fathers were of ailing health, leading to their eventual death. From then, they were alone. With their Exceeds, they had a companion, but they weren't much of a fatherly figure who would be able to discipline them when needed.

But would Sting even be capable of doing something detrimental to him? Something that would hurt him?

Sting grabbed a bottle from his nightstand then positioned himself over the other's paralyzed body. When Rogue had been placed on the bed, his hair had fallen from its usual position over the right side of his face. Sting tried to face him but the combined anger in both eyes made that impossible. He was fighting his own internal battle and those piercing eyes were not helping. Using his blonde bangs, he shielded his face.

"Don't look at me like that. You know, your eyes are why I fell in love with you. You were always so quiet and reticent, but your eyes revealed so much. I saw all of your anger and sorrow, bliss and ecstasy. I can't believe I'm doing this… I'm so sorry…but I can't help myself."

Sting untied the towel around Rogue's waist to expose him completely. He grabbed Rogue's cock and brought it to his lips. He licked around the head and gently under the foreskin, feeling it engorge with blood as he did so. Excited by the positive reaction, Sting took the length into his mouth and down his throat until his nose was tickled by Rogue's tuft of hair.

Rogue's smell was driving him wild. Fresh out of the shower, Rogue's scent was partially masked by the perfumes of various soaps. However, underneath it, the aroma of his pheromones grew stronger and Sting could smell his arousal.

Sting felt Rogue hardened more and the pressure hurt his throat. He got off and set himself to another task.

With little warning, he reached down to tease Rogue's opening. He rubbed around the hole in circular motions that would have normally tickled, but Rogue remained stilled. If he hadn't been paralyzed, he would have jerked up and kicked Sting in the face purely out of reflex.

Using the substance from the bottle, Sting generously coated his fingers. He didn't care that some of the goo fell onto his covers; he was too distracted and Rogue's delicious taste was still in his mouth.

He used his index finger to pry the muscles open. He heard Rogue's breath quicken, but he kept his eyes down. Slowly putting the finger in, he then pulled it out at the same speed. He continued this motion for a little bit before he inserted a second finger then a third to effectively lubricate Rogue's insides. He gave Rogue tiny licks as he worked as a sort of reward for bearing with him.

For years Sting had suppressed his feelings, hiding his longing and jealousy because they were friends and that was it. Growing up, he had been teased and ridiculed for his preference. Kids laughed on the playground, saying that it was unnatural, and the others avoided him because they didn't want to catch the "disease". So Sting kept it a secret and hid his clandestine nighttime escapades with various magazines more than the average teenager would.

Sure, he had crushes in the past and the affection had gone unrequited, but Rogue was different. Rogue was…someone who was special beyond words. Someone who couldn't simply be replaced. And Sting loved every bit of him with an unconditional fervor that has only increased each year. Maybe it was only the maturing dragon within him that searched incessantly for a suitable mate, or maybe it was something more.

He unzipped his pants, applied more lotion, and positioned himself.

"Shit…what the hell am I doing?" Sting whispered to himself.

Nevertheless, he felt he had gone too far to back down now. He needed fulfillment and at that moment it was all he could think about. Touching Rogue, feeling him, smelling him, tasting him… Those thoughts ran through his mind without break or end.

He eased the head of his cock in and gasped at the tightness. He had to stop himself in order to hold onto whatever was left of his composure. His libido was taking over his rationality and he had to control it. He didn't want to scar Rogue forever by violently thrusting into him; he didn't want to make Rogue afraid of him.

To buy some time, he rubbed Rogue. Rogue was still erect and some moisture began to bead at the tip. Did this mean he was enjoying this? Sting shook his head. No, it was just a natural reaction to this kind of stimulation. It didn't mean anything on an emotional level. He shouldn't get his hopes up.

"I'm sorry, but I…I need you…badly."

Sting pushed in further and braved a glance up. Rogue's eyes had softened; their harsh glint had faded into a foggy haze. Taking this as a sign, he dripped more lube on and completely entered the Shadow Dragon Slayer.

Sting had imagined this moment for years in various scenarios, but it was never like this. He had always hoped that if he confessed, Rogue would immediately realize his similar feelings for him and they would fall madly in love. Maybe they would have gotten married and adopted a child. With the growing tolerance in Fiore, maybe their friends would be happy for them. He was sure that at least Fairy Tail would be. During the Games, he had gotten to know Natsu and the others more than he ever thought he would. He had learned of their open friendliness and hoped to reform his guild to be as such. But what kind of example was he setting now?

Although he started with slow, steady thrusts, Rogue had closed his eyes and his face showed traces of a grimace. Sting leaned over his friend, whispering apologies into his ear, unable to look at his face anymore. With his unoccupied hand, he continued to caress Rogue so that he could at least have some kind of pleasure to mask the pain.

But he almost lost it. The smooth texture provided by the lotion enhanced the feeling around his virgin cock more than a simple hand ever could. And, oh god, Rogue was unimaginably tight. Their breaths matched in a frenzied tempo. He groaned in place of Rogue's silence due to his paralyzed vocal chords.

"Nnngh, Rogue! Haah…I love you so damn much…" Sting said, barely aware of the words escaping his mouth.

Sting quickened his thrusts as he felt himself near. He did not notice the different texture rub past the head of his cock, but Rogue definitely did. And for a second he was lost in ecstasy.

A minute spasm rocked through Rogue's body and a spurt of thick liquid burst onto Rogue's chest.

Shock overtook Sting right before he reached his own pinnacle. He had given Rogue an orgasm. He had pleasured Rogue to the point of ejaculation. The mere idea of being able to satisfy the one he had prized for so long took him over the edge. Rivulets of fluid burst into Rogue, filling him even more.

Sting looked up at his friend whose face was bright red and whose eyes were wide in shock. He did not look too pleased. In fact, he looked pissed.

Sting quickly drew himself out of the dripping mess of a hole, earning another grimace as well as a hiss of pain. He looked down at what he had done.

Rogue lay disheveled on the ruffled bed, covered in semen. His sphincter was gaping in mock horror, drooling Sting's seed and strands of blood. Tears were dripping out of the corners of eyes, mixing with the moisture from his damp hair on the pillows. The blush on his face seemed like it was more due to fury than pleasure, and he couldn't even look at his former friend.

When the lustful smoke had cleared, Sting realized what he had done. _Shit_, he silently cursed to himself. G_od fucking damnit! I screwed everything up, didn't I?_

He put his now-limp member back into his pants, removed his magic, and fled the room.

Where could he go now? The bar wasn't an option. He didn't deserve to be around other people, and he wouldn't be able to stand it anyway. The club definitely wasn't an option, no matter how much he craved a distraction. He ran around town with the speed of a businessman late to a meeting, colliding into people and leaving too quickly for a proper apology.

In the moment he had a prodigious high, but the resulting fall had a much more massive impact. And then it dawned on him. After all of this, he had finally realized what he had done.

He raped his friend.

He had wholly devastated all the feeble chances he had at acquiring a requited love. In one impulsive action, he had ruined his opportunities and, not to mention, their friendship.

Tears began to well before ultimately plummeting down. He cowered into the shadows of an alley to hide his shame from the strangers in the street.

It was over. It was all over. He'd probably have to leave the guild if rumors started to spread. No. He'd have to leave the town, maybe the whole of Fiore.

He laid his head on his knees, looking for a way out.

Having to see Rogue again would be more than he could bear. If he were to abscond, what would happen to Lector? Rogue could probably take care of Lector. The Exceed would only remind him of Frosch, which would then lead to the broken fantasy of Rogue. But would Rogue be able to treat Lector with the care he requires after what Sting had done? No, Rogue's a good person. He would take care of Lector.

_He's a good person…unlike me. I will never deserve him. Especially not after what I had done._

"Hey," a voice spoke from above. "What are you doing here?"

He would have told whoever it was to leave him the fuck alone, but he recognized the sound, the tone, the very essence of that voice. And he couldn't look up. He couldn't face him.

When he didn't respond, Rogue crouched down beside him, eyes trained intently on the shadowed face of the White Dragon Slayer. Rogue was of the shadows; he knew what his friend tried to hide in its darkness.

"I understand."

Sting looked up at that, straight into the vortex of Rogue's eyes. Their fiery red color and slit pupils made him blush slightly. His gaze was just so intense!

"Y-you what?"

Rogue silently cursed, turning to study the pattern of the fading graffiti on the wall opposite them. He sat down and leaned back.

"I mean, I don't understand why you would go _that_ far but…I liked you too…so I get it, kind of."

"What?" Sting asked again, still with the same incredulous tone.

"I liked you! And don't you dare make me repeat it again."

Sting sat in a stunned silence. This had to be a trick, a prank, or—

"Wait, 'like_d_'?"

Rogue had like_d_ him.

Rogue had legitimate romantic feelings for him, and he decided to throw away all his care and violate his trust.

Why couldn't he have just confessed first? If they were standing on a roof, Sting would have been ready to jump off of it. Into the night sky, flying away from the judgment and the scorn.

How could he do something so stupid? Why did he listen to his damn hormones? He scolded himself. He couldn't blame something like that for his own actions. He was the one who made the choice.

Rogue looked down and studied the material of his shoes.

"Okay, 'like'. I like you. I still care for you."

"Still? After everything I've done? I feel like you're fucking with me. You want revenge right? I'll let you do whatever you want but don't play with my emotions like that."

Exasperated, Rogue grabbed Sting's chin. He lifted those blue eyes to his so that Sting would finally look at him and _see_ his verity. Then he leaned in and kissed him.

Everything stopped. The cars ceased to honk, pedestrians became immobile, and Sting's breaths froze.

Rogue parted first. He made a face. "You _taste_ like guilt."

Sting seemed like he hadn't even heard him. "I… You… Like…"

"Yeah, I've liked you since we were young. I like you enough that even after doing something like that to me, my feelings for you haven't changed. I think I lo—um, no just…let's start over. Pretend that never happened. Let's still be friends who can laugh without any darkness holding them back. And don't force your away into my ass this time around. That fucking hurt."

"But I made you cum," Sting teased.

Rogue blushed. "Shut up."

"Are you saying you're a masochist then?"

"I have to be to like someone like you…" Rogue mumbled, dropping his head now that he had gotten his message across.

"Hey! Mean!" Sting said defensively. "But you're probably right…I'm sorry. I really am so terribly sorry."

He threw himself into Rogue's arms, sending them both toppling backwards. After some laughter reminiscent of the old times, they laid back against the alley wall together. Sting rested on Rogue's chest, and the dark-haired mage petted his friend's head, running his fingers through the soft blonde hair.

He had been right with his previous assumption; Rogue was too good for him. To still care for someone who did such a thing to you—someone who betrayed your trust—was incredible. And that word barely described how Sting saw Rogue at that moment.

"I kind of don't want to start over," Sting said softly, as if afraid to shatter the peace.

"What do you mean?"

"If we start over, then we'd just be friends again. I want to be more than that. I want to be your lover."

Rogue made a surprised sound that didn't translate into any real words.

"I-I mean, I don't want to force you into anything. If you don't want to then that's fine. We can take it slow and do whatever you want."

Rogue smiled despite himself. "When I said start over, this is what I wanted to prevent. You don't need to doubt yourself. I liked you for who you are and how you are. I like your honesty, your carefreeness, your determination, your kindness, and even your aggressiveness."

"I love you," Sting whispered into the freshly laundered cloth of Rogue's shirt, "so much."

Rogue blushed fiercely. "I l-love you too," he muttered.


End file.
